


Don't Go Into That Barn

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Horror, Monsters, Other, Prehensile Tongue, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: “Shiny tooth talons coiled for grabbing a stranger happening byAnd the day went home early, and the sun sank down into the muck of a deep dead sky.”





	Don't Go Into That Barn

**Author's Note:**

> A request that took way too long to get to, and done on a shitty laptop while my actual good computer is being given a viking funeral :'I press F to pay respects.

"The hell're ya doin'?"

You turned partially to face your mother, careful not to lose your balance on your wooden step stool. "I'm spiffin' up the scarecrow."

"You're scarin' the shit out of the neighbors is what you're doin'." You rolled your eyes and gestured wide at your massive yard, encased by a small forest of trees.

"I'm sure they're quaking in their boots." You weren’t sure why you were arguing with her, you were in complete agreement that you were turning the scarecrow into a gruesome sight. It was meant as a more a novelty than anything, designed to keep the crows away from crops, but recently something bigger than birds started prowling around. And it was leaving behind dead farm animals in its wake. Traps and an extra padlock hadn't fixed the problem, so you were resorting to something drastic and, if you were honest, more a comfort than to any actual effect.

You weren't sure what to use for the teeth as first, until you picked through your clothing for the leather jacket you wore in high school. At least, for all of one day before you got sent home for the spikes along the shoulders. You promised yourself you would wear it on outings besides school, but that like many other things got shoved away to be forgotten. Until you found it useful for a DIY project, of course. They were even so convenient as to already have holes in their base for thread.

"What is that gonna accomplish?" you mother asked you, putting her hands on her hips. You shrugged and looped your needle back through the scarecrow's upper lip.

"I got a cool Halloween decoration?" You left the needle midway through the sack, throwing your arms in the air. "What do you expect me to say, Ma? I'm running out of ideas. I'm about to start bringing the animals inside for the night, and lord knows I don't want to resort to that!"

She made a face. "I know you don't sweetie, but that ain't gonna scare off any coyotes."

You turned back with a sigh and fished another spike out of your tool belt, from the pocket you usually kept nails. "When I finally get around to calling a hunter it might just scare them off."

Your mom tried to laugh, but you could tell she was uncomfortable. You felt her stare on your back, on your project, and your face got redder by the minute. Just when you were about to say something, she turned and walked back towards the house.

"Busy work," you muttered to yourself, threading the needle through the metal spike.

\---

You finished your project just before sundown, the scarecrow's wide mouth lined with dulled spikes off of a teenagers biker jacket. But it certainly cut an imposing figure, and you were already considering outfit changes to fit his new face. But with no more time in the day, it would have to wait until tomorrow. Unhooking your tool belt, you began folding it up and heading towards the farmhouse.

Dinner was already on the table, your mother sitting cross from your place at the table and spooning chili on a piece of cornbread.

"Finished with your craft?" she asked you through a mouthful of bread, gesturing to your food. You knew better, dropping the tool belt on the table beside the door and walking to the sink first. You mom nodded as she swallowed.

"I'm gonna try and sleep light tonight," you told her, pulling yourself a seat and stirring your bowl of chili. "Keep my light on, keep my shoes beside the bed. Just in case I hear anything."

"Keep a lantern by your bed too then," she replied, blowing steam off of her chili before taking a bite.

"I will. And the gun."

"Not the gun."

"You just want me to watch the coyote?"

"You wanna get the cops called on us again?" You rubbed your eyes and threw your head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Fine. I'll just take the bb gun then. Scare it off." With that, your mom was satisfied, and the rest of dinner went by without any mention to the plague surrounding your humble little farm. Your mother finished well before you, and with her chair empty you saw the barn through the kitchen window, your animals tucked away safely inside. Normally your half-dozen cows slept in a separate, smaller barn, but you had all of them tucked snugly in your large barn, hoping the larger animals could protect the smaller.

You hoped whatever was tormenting them to show its face tonight so you could put a pellet right between its eyes.

\---

A hideous quail rolled over your ears, ringing long after you pulled yourself from your restless sleep. In an instant you were jumping out of bed, your feet shoved barefoot into thick sneakers, one hand rubbing your eyes and the other pocketed a small box of bb pellets. You grabbed the gun from beside your bedroom door, another pained yowl echoing over your land as you lit the oil lantern.

"Shit," you whispered, holding your light out ahead of you and making it down the dark hallway and out the door.

The farmhouse was a short trek away from the house, and you heard the chicken let out a final gut-wrenching cry before falling silent, the other animal's panicked stomping easily dominating whatever was happening. You ran to the front door of the barn, nearly stubbing your toe on the massive padlock lying broken on the dirt in front of it. Confused, you pushed the door open and held your lantern into the chaos.

"What could do that?" In the instant you thought it, your question was answered.

He stood at 6 foot tall easily, and even then he was hunched over his kill, gobbling at meat, feathers and all. The animals in the corners stomped and huffed anxiously, but the animals at this creatures feet were eerily silent, unable to even react to instinct in the presence of this beast. He moved unnaturally, his knees bending at strange inhuman angles as he turned to face you. The lantern light illuminated on his face what his glowing orange eyes didn't, but there was nothing to see but blood.

Blood and metal. The spikes you had sewn into the burlap hours before glistened with chicken gizzards, looking sharper than you remember them. A massive tongue the same stark red as the blood it was licking up lolled out of his slitted mouth, its tapered tip dangling over his chin and to his chest. The sound he made was between a growl and a gurgle, starting low and heavy and gradually increasing in volume until he had silenced even the night creatures outside with his piercing wail.

You had a gun. You had a lantern. You moved to wield the gun, and dropped the lantern without a second thought, and realized it a millisecond before it hit the hay bed at your feet and shattered.

You backed away as the entrance caught ablaze, embers flitting just past your fly strands of hair. In that moment, you were ashamed in that you didn't even think of your animals for a second. You didn't even think of your mother, probably bleary-eyed in the house now. With both hands tightened around your BB rifle, you turned and began to run back towards the front of the estate. The cars were kept just past the treeline, in a two car garage that led straight on the dirt path to the main road. Your keys were in that garage. You didn't need anything else to get the fuck out.

You dared one look over your shoulder, at the massive structure of flammable material ready to erupt in a bonfire three stories tall. What you saw instead was an emblazoned silhouette running at you, it’s lanky gait thrown off balance by a rotten wood peg leg. Flames licked at his every angle, but somehow they didn't seem to consume the scarecrow, or set the hay he was stuffed with ablaze. If anything, the flames danced on his surface like a cruel, demonic joke.

You chanced one shot at the scarecrow, taking aim with your shaking hands and quickly pulling the trigger. The pellet struck his midsection and slid off of him in a shower of sparks, barely slowing him for a stutter. Back into a full sprint, trying to reach the treeline with the determination of an olympic sprinter.

But even you, with all your time spent outside in the fields, didn't have enough in you. Not when the creatures body was fueled by something darker than the devil itself. You hit the very edge of the dirt path, and you felt the warm lick of flames from behind a second before jagged teeth dug into your calf, sinking right through your cotton PJs and into flesh and muscle. With a howl that countered the demons you fell to the ground, his jaw locked on your leg. Warm blood flowed out around his teeth and began to fall in tiny waterfalls down your leg. Somehow your pants didn’t also catch fire, but it wasn’t a blessing you were counting.

In one last desperate attack, you grabbed the BB gun and jammed the butt of it against the creatures head to stun it. The wood sank right through the hay, squishing through some other mysterious substance before hitting the metal frame of his eye socket, but it didn't even take him off of your leg. No, he did that of his own choice, dropping your calf with a generous dribble of oily saliva and blood. And instead, he crawled until his body had your blocked in beneath him, his cancerous tongue dangling right over your face.

Too terrified to move, you could only watch as his prehensile tongue wriggled and writhed like a living creature of its own, finally managing to make its way down past your lips and over your tongue. It buried itself deep in your throat, easily and purposefully closing your airpipe until you were gagging for breath. He didn't acknowledge your panic, your struggle. Your face went red, blue, and finally slack as he finally ripped his tongue from your asphyxiated throat.


End file.
